“That’s not it.” She abandoned the button and looked up. He must have understood it was a long story, because he settled on his side with a groan, tucking her into his shoulder.
“Go ahead. Tell me.”
Since his tone was resigned but not uninterested, she did. “My mom’s only thirty-seven,” she began, giving him a minute to do the math.
“Well, that says it all.” His muscles bunched as he started to turn, but she put a hand on his chest to keep him still.
“There’s more. My dad was eighteen, too, when she got pregnant, and he was killed before I was born. He’d gone to tell his parents about my mother, who was an orphan, and something happened. She never knew what. Or at least, she never told me. He died, and she had me, and ever since has been totally paranoid about life. About my life.” She told him some of the survival tips her mother had drilled into her.
“What the hell’s she afraid of?” He laughed at the extremes, but sobered quickly at the look on her face. “You don’t believe it, do you? That you’re in danger?”
Kelsey hated to admit she didn’t know what she believed. For a long time, she’d just accepted that was how her mother was. She hadn’t known other people didn’t see danger and escape routes and odd behavior all over the place. As she got older and realized it wasn’t normal, she’d started to resent it, especially with no proof of real danger. When her mother tried to move them again a few years ago, Kelsey ran away. It backfired, because for one, leaving to protest leaving kind of defeated the purpose. And when she went home, fully intending to scream her mother into letting her have her own way, her mother had collapsed, white as a corpse, vibrating with fear. She’d said it was like losing Kelsey’s father all over again. He’d died trying to keep Regan and his unborn child safe, and Kelsey’s recklessness had dishonored her father’s sacrifice.
“She’s afraid of losing me, I guess. We have this thing.” She couldn’t look at him and started playing with the button again. “We never take anything into our lives we can’t leave behind.” He didn’t say anything. This time, when he shifted to loom over her, she let him.
“You don’t have to be afraid to let me in, because you won’t have to leave me behind. I won’t let you.” He brushed her hair off her face, his gaze going to her mouth. “I promise, everything will be fine.” A bigger, harder, more promising kiss, then he sat up, opened her book, and leaned against the cinderblock wall.
“You have a test tomorrow, don’t you?”
***
Regan pulled into her driveway earlier than usual, absurdly excited to have an extra hour at home before Alan came over. Now that Kelsey was gone, alone time wasn’t as hard to get as it once had been, except for two things: work and Alan. The fitness center she managed was doing booming business, and hiring good help had been difficult. And Alan had gotten more entrenched in her routine over the last two months. She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing anymore, but she still enjoyed the time she had to herself.
She parked and walked down to the mailboxes to get her mail and Tyler’s before crossing the yard between their houses and using his key to open the front door. She dropped his mail on the hall table without looking at it, as she had all week, and started to walk back out again. Then she hesitated, noticing how stuffy it was. It was the third week of October, but they were having a heat wave and the temperature had been near eighty today. The house felt stagnant and stale. Tyler was coming home tonight from wherever he’d been, and he didn’t need to return to a muggy house. She’d just open a few windows, now that the sun had set and the temperature was dropping.
Dark blue drapes pulled across the picture window dimmed the living room. Regan opened them, then unlocked and lifted the two small windows on either side of the larger one. A breeze fluttered the short sheers in front of them, and she nodded, pleased.
She turned and started to walk across the living room to the kitchen. Opening the window over the sink would create a cross-breeze, and that should be enough. But she hesitated when a computer desk on the far wall caught her attention. She hadn’t come past the foyer all week, but simply listened for running water, sniffed for smoke and relocked the door on her way out. Now curiosity fed by chronic suspicion crept over her. Who was this guy, living so close to her and making new overtures? Could he be part of what she’d run from? Maybe whoever had hired the thugs to kidnap Kelsey as a baby had gotten smarter, more subtle. More patient. Shouldn’t she know all she could about Tyler Sloane?
Slowly, she crossed the carpeted room to the desk. The surface was empty save for the keyboard and monitor. The hutch on top of the desk held a few notepads and an electric company mug with two pens, a pencil and a pair of scissors sticking out of it. She riffled through a small stack of bills on the left-hand shelf, but there was nothing unusual there. The phone bill was still sealed.
She carefully slid open the top drawer. A small case of disks, three loose CD-Rs—the kind you got free with a new computer—a ruler and a sticky pad. The bottom drawer, file sized, was locked.
Interesting. Was he in the habit of locking things even though he lived alone, or was there something he didn’t want her to see if she went snooping?
In any event, there was nothing to find here. She continued into the kitchen and shoved open the window. The drawers and cabinets revealed a typical selection of mismatched utensils and plates and microwaveable food. The only odd thing was that he didn’t have a junk drawer.
There was an empty dining room and a half bath looking disturbingly clean for a bachelor male. Maybe he’d cleaned it in case she used it while he was away. She hesitated between the bottom of the stairs and the front door. Up or out? She had no reason to go up except nosiness. And that was hardly sufficient.
But with the exception of the locked drawer, the house felt staged to her. Like a model home, or one prepared to sell. Or a fake one. This house told her nothing about the guy who lived here. She had a duty to herself and her daughter to do everything possible to protect them. Right?
“Right, Regan,” she muttered as she started up the stairs. “This is a bit much, even for you.” For two years, he hadn’t given her reason to suspect him. And if he was hiding something, he wouldn’t have given her access to his house.
But she couldn’t help herself.
The first room was his bedroom, and as soon as she set foot in it, she realized it wasn’t suspicion drawing her up here. His scent surrounded her, even after a week of his being gone, and she hadn’t even been aware that she knew what he smelled like. Heat, and mown grass, and something smelling like nothing else except Tyler Sloane. She inhaled, then gasped in horror at her body’s response. A surge of desire, an urge to prowl…
Hell, no.
She abandoned her self-guided tour and ran down the stairs, grabbing her keys and her own mail off the hall table as she wrenched open the door and pulled it closed behind her.
Thank God he was coming home tonight.
That thought could be interpreted in more ways than one, and she slammed the brakes on the list her brain started to make.
As if to admonish her further, Alan pulled into her driveway behind her truck. She crossed the grass to him, smiling, but the smile faded when she saw the look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when he emerged from the sedan. He didn’t answer but glowered at the house behind her, and she understood. She wasn’t about to indulge his jealousy, especially given the feelings she’d just dealt with. She didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“I just have a few things in the truck to bring in, and we can figure something out for dinner,” she said.
Alan’s face cleared and he bent to kiss her. “I’ll help.” Ever efficient, he opened the back of the Highlander and collected her gym bag, a box of fliers she needed to fold for the fitness center, her lunch box and two bags of dry groceries she’d bought at lunch. Nothing remained for her to carry.
“You busy?” he asked, eyeing the fliers.
&nb
sp; “No, they don’t have to be done tonight.”
“Good.” He gave her a significant look she ignored, leading him around to the back door.
“I’ll put these away.” Alan deposited most of her things on the kitchen island and lifted the bag of toiletries bound for her bathroom. “I know where they go.”
Regan only said thanks. Since Kelsey left, Alan had been trying to pamper her by doing these little things. Arguing with him about her capability would just make her look stubborn and overly independent and reinforce his opinion that she needed someone to take care of her. For some reason, the harder a woman worked, the more everyone else believed she needed help.
The phone rang and she snatched it up. Alan was here, so it had to be Kelsey.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom! Guess what!” Her voice was breathless and high-pitched. Regan’s heart slammed against her chest. There was only one thing that would make her daughter—any teenage girl—that excited.
“What?”
“I totally aced my English lit midterm!”
Regan slumped against the counter. Thank God. As soon as Kelsey let a man into her life, her mother’s influence would decrease by half. The longer it took to happen, the longer she could hold on to the illusion she could keep Kelsey safe.
“That’s wonderful, hon!” As Kelsey went on about British poets and bullshit essays, Regan opened the refrigerator and grimaced. There wasn’t much to make for dinner, even with the groceries she’d picked up. Not really caring, she pulled out a carton of eggs. Egg salad sandwiches sounded good enough to her.
“And Mom, I swear, you’re going to kill me for saying this, but I think I’m in love with him.”
“What?” Regan realized she’d stopped listening for a crucial moment. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. Please tell me I didn’t hear what I think I heard. Who is this guy?”
“The football player. Come on, Mom, we’ve talked about him. The guy I crashed into a few weeks ago?”
Regan remembered. She’d quizzed Kelsey for fifteen minutes about why he’d hit her, what he’d said, who else had been around, until her daughter had practically hung up on her in disgust. She’d made a few mentions in her emails about a guy she’d gone out with a few times, but Regan hadn’t clued in that it was that far along.
“What’s his name again?”
“It’s Tom Johnson.” She went on about his being a linebacker and holding school records and hoping to get drafted into the NFL, but Regan hardly heard her. She had a flash memory of Scott’s face, as clear as the last day she’d seen him, and old grief throbbed. She wanted to believe this was a passing thing, Kelsey’s first independent fling. But she remembered too well how it felt to fall in love, real love, and she knew Kelsey was there. Knew it was far too late for her to interfere. She just wished she knew if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
She pulled a pan out and filled it with water, set it on the stove, and started setting eggs in it, all the while listening to Kelsey rave about how sweet this kid was, even though she’d flattened him.
“I mean, he did flatten me first, but not many people could knock him down even on the football field, never mind off it.”
Regan noticed the latch on the screen door was undone, and she crossed the kitchen to slip the hook into the eye. Alan re-entered the room in time to see her do it. He looked displeased, but she didn’t care. She was who she was, and if he couldn’t accept that, too bad.
As she listened to her daughter babble on about all the great changes in her life, though, she wondered who it was too bad for. Regan had coworkers and staff, a bantering friendliness with her next-door neighbor, and a daughter starting her own life a hundred miles away. That was all, and why? Because of something that happened a long time ago and, despite her readiness, had never happened again.
They could have found her if they wanted to. She had been afraid to do anything illegal, so her name change had occurred in the courts in Illinois, her first stop after leaving California. She’d moved several times while Kelsey was very young, but once she hit school age Regan was less willing to disrupt her life unless she had to. They’d settled here, in this small town in Ohio, where she worked a legitimate job and paid her taxes and utilities and rent. Constantly alert, she’d been prepared to run at the first sign someone had found them, even after Kelsey’s second freak-out. They never had.
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” she said softly when her daughter paused for a breath.
“You are?”
“Of course I am. I know I don’t talk about your father much, Kels, but I do remember. I want you to feel that way.”
“I do. And Mom, don’t worry. We’re gonna practice safe sex, double protection, and everything. I know I’m not his first, we’ve talked about it, and we’re both going to get tested for AIDS just in case, because we want to start our life together pure and honest.”
Regan squeezed her eyes shut as Kelsey rambled on. Could any mother hear about her daughter having sex, even safe sex, and talking about AIDS, even in a responsible manner, without this pain in the chest? She was proud of her, so proud, and yet it hurt more than anything ever had.
“I think Van is having an influence on you.”
That stopped Kelsey, and she laughed. “I’m rambling, huh? It’s not like me.”
“No, but I’m not complaining. I love to hear what’s happening up there.”
“Mom, I’m really happy. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being so brave.”
Regan blinked. “I’m not brave, Kels.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been afraid my whole life. I don’t know why, but I know how deep it goes. But you never held me back. And you let me go, when I know it couldn’t have been easy for you. I just wanted you to know I understand and I appreciate it.”
As she hung up the phone a few minutes later, Regan wondered what the hell she had done to deserve such an awesome kid. She could have rebelled harder against her mother’s protectiveness, could have acted out and done dangerous things. Could have hated Regan for not fully explaining her fears, especially when she’d never seen evidence of the danger. Maybe it really was time for her to—
A squealing, hissing sound penetrated her thoughts. Like gas escaping through a tight valve. She spun, looking for the source. She checked the windows, then hurried to the screen door. She couldn’t see anything. She was about to run out to the hall when Alan stepped in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” He had been leaning against the counter, patiently waiting for her to finish talking to Kelsey. Now he gripped her upper arms. “What’s the matter?”
“That noise. I hear—” She looked toward the stove, flushing. It was the eggs. As the temperature changed in the pot, so did the pressure, making them squeal. “Never mind.”
“Honey.” He stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you need to let go. You are wound far too tight. I don’t know what happened to make you like this, but you have to stop. It’s too much stress. Can’t you believe you’re safe? From whatever you’re afraid of?”
She looked up at him, finally sensing the truth of his question in her gut. Scott’s warning that they were in danger had been true. The attempted kidnapping right after Kelsey was born proved that. But she didn’t know for sure what had caused them to be in danger, and the eighteen years without another attempt was pretty good evidence the danger had passed.
Maybe it was time for her to let go.
She switched off the burner, took Alan’s hand and led him without a word through the tiny house to the bedroom. Ignored the open back door and unset alarm. Sent as clear a message as she could without actually saying the words.
“Oh, baby,” Alan breathed as she shut the bedroom door behind him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her reverently. Her brain, her body, resisted for one more moment, then released her.
It wasn’t like a storybook. She didn’t burst into flames and pas
sion didn’t overcome her. She couldn’t get lost in his kisses. But he was tender and gave her all the time and attention she needed. She came in a long, slow, sweet rolling orgasm that catapulted Alan into his, and they dozed, cuddling.
She thought about how she hadn’t allowed herself this before, this complete package of comfort and pleasure. Why had she let the bad guys steal a large part of her life, just by keeping her afraid? She wondered what it would be like to really let go. What it would hurt. The answer lay in a memory that never faded, but after all this time, maybe it was okay to start letting it. She dropped into a deeper sleep, and it was dark when she jerked awake in response to a dull, squishing thunk. When her eyes flew open, they focused instantly on the handle of the giant knife protruding from Alan’s chest.
Chapter Three
Her nightmares had never been like this. She’d always been alone, trying to protect Kelsey against the foes she’d defeated before—two men, unarmed but for their strength and evil plan. This was totally different.
Inside she screamed in horror as Alan gasped, his eyes already vacant, his hands trying to clutch the knife. There was nothing she could do for him. There was almost nothing she could do for herself, as a second knife descended toward her.
A few things saved her. Her position—she was lying on her side, presenting a much less obliging target for a kill strike. Her nightmares, which had conditioned her to consider what she would do under any circumstance she could think of. And her knowledge that if anything happened to her, Kelsey was a sitting duck.
The knife grazed the side of her left arm as she rolled to her right and kept going, her momentum taking the attacker by surprise. She had a vague thought that he hadn’t been aiming to kill, but she had no time to consider that. They tumbled to the floor together. Regan was on top but she had no weapon, no leverage, and no clothes. There was less for him to grab, but absolutely nothing to protect her.
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